The Right to Choose

by Andrey Vasilyev

  The Old Man gestured me to a spot to Vika’s left; Azov, to her right. For himself, he democratically picked someone’s seat somewhere near the middle of the table.

  “Maximillian, since you’re already holding a bottle, why don’t you pour some for all of us?”

  Zimin started toward him but just earned himself a wave.

  “No, no, I can wait. Start with Ilya. He told me on the plane how he wanted a drink.”

  A stream of wine hit the bottom of the glass Azov offered Zimin.

  “Pour, pour,” the Old Man said with a smile. “All the way to the top. It’s a holiday!”

  “I’d like some wine, too,” Yadviga said suddenly. “My legs are tired, too.”

  “Well, sit down,” the Old Man replied. “What are you all standing for? Anyway, we took someone else’s places… Maximillian, I don’t think you’d mind being the cupbearer, today, and your cousin can help you. Eddie?”

  “It would be an honor,” Edward said impassively, picking a bottle of red wine up from the table.

  “Nicky, you don’t have anywhere to sit, either?” The Old Man shook his head sympathetically, though Valyaev just smiled charmingly as if to say that minutiae like that weren’t even worth mentioning.

  When Zimin came over to me, I saw the livid whites of his eyes and shook my head.

  “I’ll be having vodka.”

  “Excellent choice!” the Old Man said complacently. “Vodka is one of mankind’s greatest inventions. It was one of your scientists who perfected the formula, wasn’t it?”

  “Yep,” Yadviga said, already drunk and holding her empty wineglass out to Edward. “Mendeleev. He was a chemist, though, so, maybe, he was going for something else.”

  “Sure,” Valyaev grunted, “and he just happened across vodka.”

  I wasn’t about to hazard a guess about what the great chemist had been trying to make—instead throwing back two shots, one after the other, grabbing a piece of pink salmon off the serving dish, adding some lemon and a stalk of parsley, and sticking the mess into my mouth.

  “You know what I like about this kid?” the Old Man asked, pointing at me. “It’s how flexible he is. He knows how to behave at the table—I know that for sure—and he’s aware of good manners. But nobody cares, right now, and so, he’s just doing whatever he wants. That’s a respectable quality to have.”

  “I just wanted something to eat and drink,” I replied as I chewed on the salmon. “We’re half an hour into the New Year, and I haven’t had a thing. It’s not the Russian way.”

  “An excellent toast.” Azov set his wineglass aside and picked up his shot glass. “Well said, too.”

  He glanced at Zimin before grabbing the decanter full of vodka, himself.

  Just then, they brought over the other table, setting it up against the one we already had, covering it with a tablecloth, laying out plates.

  “Ah, here we are—places to sit and some waiters,” the Old Man said, smiling kindly. “Maximillian, Edward, what are you still running around for? Have a seat, already. Let’s drink to the New Year, to everyone getting what they deserve in it, and to everyone understanding in this year what they didn’t understand in the last. Nicky, is there anything you’d like to add to my toast?”

  “Everything was clearly and beautifully stated, master,” Valyaev said clearly and beautifully. “I think everybody here would agree.”

  “As long as everybody does—that’s important.” The Old Man raised his glass. “Prosit!”

  Vika had polished off her large piece of sturgeon and was just poking at the bones and gristle with her fork. I gave her a kick as I held up my vodka shot.

  Everyone drank, including Vika, who quickly dropped her utensils and picked up her glass.

  “Well, what plans do we all have for the winter holidays?” the Old Man asked, sitting back freely in his chair. “What do you have going on, for example?”

  The man, whose name I didn’t know, though I’d seen him before, choked on an olive he’d just put in his mouth before finally getting his answer out. “My family and I are headed for the mountains. Going skiing.”

  “The exercise sounds great,” the Old Man nodded. “The mountains, doubly so. Where exactly are you going?”

  “The Swiss Alps,” the man replied, crimson from the strain.

  “Ah, yes,” the Old Man sighed. “Just be careful—they have avalanches there, sometimes. Out of nowhere, the noise, the roar… You wouldn’t want to get caught under a pile of snow rolling down the mountain.”

  “I’ll be careful,” the man nodded.

  “We’re going to see my parents,” Vika said suddenly. “I want to introduce Kif to them.”

  “Excellent,” the Old Man smiled. “You can’t forget your parents.”

  “Vika, have some more fish.” Azov plopped another piece of sturgeon on her plate before whispering quietly to her. “Good work, you did everything right. Eat this, and then you can leave.”

  Vika got right to work with her fork, slicing and dicing her way through the delicacy.

  “Well, another shot?” Valyaev asked.

  “Why not?” the Old Man replied. “It’s a holiday!”

  I threw back more vodka, following it with a delicious piece of smoked meat. My head started to pleasantly murmur.

  “Okay, we’re off to dance.” I offered Vika my hand. “I hope nobody minds?”

  “Bravo!” the Old Man said, giving us a round of applause. “Taking everything you can out of life. Dancing till you drop and rivers of wine! Go, my friends, and don’t even look back at us old, boring people.”

  ***

  I took Vika by the hand and led her away. She was breathing deeply, her hand clammy.

  Down off the dais, I did look back. The Old Man had gone over to his large chair, and the waiters were laying out a new place setting for him.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Vika muttered. “And I’m never having sturgeon again! Kif, I need to find the bathroom.”

  “Well, you had your taste of life at the top,” I said as we walked off in that direction. “What did you think?”

  “It was horrible. Damn, I’m finished; Zimin will never forgive me.”

  “You mean, he won’t forget. He’s no fool so he won’t get even. Okay, go do what you need to do—I’ll be around here somewhere. Oh, I’m going to get some of that vodka.”

  “Be careful,” Vika said in a weak voice before opening the door.

  I looked around and was about to head over to the bar (there were three of them, and the drinks were all on the house) to do away with a little more of the stress, when somebody threw their arms around my neck, enveloped me in a cloud of perfume, and pressed something firm and soft, even pliable, against me. The blood froze in my veins, and then started pumping vigorously. It dropped away from my brain, lower and lower…

  “You didn’t think I’d find you?” she hissed in my ear, biting gently at the lobe. “How wrong you were. You’re mine, and I’ll find you wherever you go.”

  Red hair, milk-white skin, green eyes. It wasn’t New Year’s; it was a labyrinth of dangers and temptations. But what temptations! They were the best in the world, the sweetest, the most desirable, unparalleled, the only ones.

  “We have to hurry,” she said, her carmine lips driving the words deep into my brain. “Soon, your little hen is going to crawl back out of the bathroom, and then the night won’t be ours.”

  Ours? What hen? Why won’t it be? Who’s she talking about? And why is my head pounding like that? I hadn’t even had that much to drink.

  “Let’s go.” The hot, accessible body pressed up against me again, an ancient fire licked through my veins, and my primal instincts awoke, emerging out of the darkness of centuries past.

  She took me by the hand and led me like a cow on a tether. I couldn’t resist; to the contrary, all I could see was the swooping neckline of her crimson silk dress and what revealed itself underneath. Oh, God, I’ve never seen anything so good. And it co
uld all be mine? Right now? Just like that?

  We walked down corridors, stopping in a corner to walk into a closet lit only by a dim night lamp.

  “Perfect—nobody will find us here.” Dasha’s green, bewitching, sparkling eyes appeared in front of my own, suddenly, leaving me to drown in them. Although I was more melting like a cube of sugar in hot water.

  Her fingers unbuttoned the collar of my shirt and loosened my tie. Her lips kissed my neck, hungrily, almost biting me, leaving me to swoon as I smelled her hair.

  God, and I was afraid of her? I should have crawled on my knees, begging, asking, beseeching her to just look at me. So hot!

  My belt buckle snapped open, assaulted by Dasha’s skilled hands, though that was accompanied by the sound of the door opening. Either Dasha had forgotten to lock it, or the lock didn’t work.

  “Harriton,” a girl’s voice said, her slender figure outlined in the doorway, “I’m glad I found you. You need to go.”

  “What?” I probably looked funny, like a scene from a movie—unbuttoned collar, unbuckled belt, ruffled hair, and a beautiful woman in my arms. “Where? Why?”

  “Back to where everyone else is in the main hall,” Lika said insistently. “Vika could go looking for you and start to worry. That wouldn’t be right.”

  “Who are you?” Dasha growled, her facial features changing slightly and her pupils, I thought, going vertical. I squeezed my eyes shut, shook my head, and looked back. No, they’re normal, just angry. The delusion slipped away, however. The blood stopped pounding in my temples, and I realized what I’d just about done. The pleasures of the flesh are fine and dandy, but they need to happen at the right place and time.

  “Me?” Lika smiled innocently. “Just a girl passing by who happens to know him. Who are you?”

  “I’ve seen you before.” Dasha’s fingernails were digging into her own palms. “Get rid of her, Nikiforov. Get rid of her, and you’ll get something you’ll never forget.”

  Oh, come on. As Fat Willie had once said, new girl, same old feelings. What even happened to me? It was ridiculous.

  “Dasha, with a woman like you, doing something like this in a…” I looked around to see mops, buckets, and rags. “Hmm. Is this a storeroom? Whatever, it just isn’t respectful to you. You should be loved on silk sheets, in a large bed, not up against a wall.”

  “You don’t get it, my sweet.” Her palm slipped across my cheek, I smelled the aroma of the steppe, and the stupor started to come back over me.

  “Harriton is right,” Lika said, taking my hand, pulling me away, and driving out the oblivion. “Your love is still ahead of you. Maybe. Maybe not, too.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to forget this,” Dasha shot back. There was a snarl on her face, and I saw a row of small, white, very sharp teeth. “Believe me, you little mouse, I’ll remember you.”

  “That’s fine.” What composure. “Don’t forget it. But for right now, we’re leaving. Don’t follow us.”

  I was stunned by how large the first floor was. There were recreation centers, twists and turns, and offices, none of which I’d noticed on the way there.

  “Hold on,” Lika said, looking back where we’d come from and pulling a handkerchief out of her neckline. “We need to get you looking presentable.”

  She wiped the lipstick off my cheeks and neck, buttoned my collar, and tightened my tie, talking to me all the while.

  “A grown man, well on his way through life, and you ran off with that slut? What if Vika had noticed? What if Yadviga had noticed? Do you really want that kind of scandal? And Dasha, she’s…”

  “She’s what?” I was completely sober as if I hadn’t had a drop to drink, with just my head ringing a tad and my thoughts leapfrogging, one over another.

  “What does it matter what she is?” Lika looked me over carefully. “She’s not the kind of girl you want to go off with. Ever. Especially you. Okay, let’s go.”

  We stepped out around a bend and found ourselves back in the main hall. A slow song was playing, something old and instrumental, and everyone there was swaying in time. Several drunk pairs were trying to pull off something more daring, the kind of thing you always have at parties like those.

  Hello, real world.

  “Hands on my waist,” Lika ordered, noticing something and placing her arms on my shoulders. “Dance!”

  “Two questions,” I said as the mess in my head cleared away. “How and why?”

  “First, wave to Vika. She’s over there looking at us, and I think she’s really angry. A little farther left.”

  I followed her instructions and saw Vika, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression awfully unpleasant. Yep, not a happy camper.

  Flashing an “everything’s good” smile in her direction, I waved and got a “we’ll talk later” look back.

  “Very good,” Lika smiled. “Okay, why. It’s simple; I told you that I’m betting on you, so my job is to take care of my future prospects. How? That’s even simpler; I saw that red-haired animal grab you, and I followed. I could tell what she had in mind, so I just needed to step in at the right moment.”

  “Am I really that predictable?” I’m not comfortable with how often I’ve been asking that question.

  “As much as any other man. She didn’t think up anything new, either—same old story,” Lika said disdainfully. “Don’t feel bad. All’s well that ends well.”

  “Did she leave any marks on my neck?” I asked quietly. “It’s just—”

  “All clear. I checked. Oh, and a piece of advice: stay away from her for a day or two, make sure you don’t even come across her accidentally. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “It won’t happen. You wouldn’t believe how much I have to do! Normal people get holidays and days off; I have to run around like a flea on a dog.”

  “Excellent.”

  She’d done a good job. I wasn’t sure what could have really happened in that closet—probably, nothing that hadn’t happened before—but I also didn’t know how it would have turned out. That Dasha was no ordinary girl. She’d come after me, too, and there was something wrong with that. Phew. My muscles were still twitching, another kind of discomfort also making sure I kept a healthy distance between Lika and me as we danced. She’d gotten me out of a very sticky situation, and I didn’t want to embarrass her.

  “Hey,” I said to her, “you know, things are really complicated with me, and I might end up without any of that—no chair, no office, no fancy title. Everything’s up in the air. If you want, I’ll put in a good word for you, and they’ll find you a nice, cozy spot. Then, if things go well on my end, you can jump over to me.”

  “No, I can wait,” Lika replied proudly and calmly. “I’m not in any hurry. Oh, the music stopped—follow my lead.”

  She curtseyed, I nodded my head, and then, she took me by the hand and led me off to where Vika was standing.

  “Vika,” she said, her voice higher and a bit more child-like, “thanks for lending me your man.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Vika’s tone could have frozen a fish in an icebox, and it even sent a shiver down my spine.

  “He saved me,” Lika replied, stepping closer to Vika. “From that guy over there!”

  Her slender finger pointed at a red-faced, overweight man dressed in rags, his tie thrown over his shoulder, and his hairy stomach peeking out from underneath his shirt. He was standing by the bar, pounding back shot after shot of vodka.

  “He dragged me off to dance,” Lika said, horror in her eyes and her hands on her cheeks. “So scary, and he stinks!”

  “Yes, not exactly Apollo,” Vika replied. Sympathy awoke in her eyes. “Nasty!”

  “Exactly! Harriton recognized me, came over, took my hand away from his, and told him I’d promised him that dance. You should have heard what he said, but Harriton just gave him a look. Now, he’s over there, drinking vodka, the bastard.”

  “I’ve seen you somewhere,” Vika said with a squint. “Definit
ely.”

  “I’m up there where you live, at the front desk,” Lika smiled. “We saw each other twice today. Yesterday, I mean.”

  “Ah-h, right!”

  “Okay, I’m going to head back to the girls,” Lika said with a clap. “Thanks again, Harriton!”

  “Thank you,” I replied, winking at her. “It’s been a while since I last danced like that.”

  “At your age…” She stuck her pink tongue out at me and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of dancing Raidion employees.

  “He really is nasty,” Vika said with her eyes on the harmless guy. He grasped yet another shot, trying to send it deep down into his innards, though the drink looked to be fighting back. “Poor girl.”

  “Right,” I nodded. “That’s why I went over to save her.”

  Vika took me by the hand. “Hey, I’m still really worried. Are you sure Zimin isn’t going to do anything to me?”

  “Oh, calm down.” I grimaced. “He doesn’t care about you. Would you burn the handle of a rake you happened to step on?”

  “No,” Vika replied with a shrug of her bare shoulders.

  “See the analogy? You were just a tool, and Zimin is much more worried about his position—how strong it is, and how strong Azov’s just got. Everything else is the garnish around the meat, the pepper dust on the edge of the plate.”

  “You’re sure waxing poetic, today,” Vika said, clearly feeling a little better. “Want something to eat?”

  “Yes,” I replied. Suddenly, I realized that I was ravenously hungry.

  “They just have snacks here.”

  “Should we head back up to where the bosses are?” I asked thoughtfully, but Vika didn’t appreciate that. “They have meat and plenty to drink.”

  “Forget it. Actually, let’s just head back home. This is no fun, and everyone looks like they just want to get drunk. It was more fun at our office.”

  “That’s for sure. Oh, hey, the competitions are starting.”

  The music died down, and Ded Moroz appeared by the tree next to the Snow Maiden, who I recognized as the very same Inna.

  “Well, here we are!” Ded Moroz boomed, shaking a staff covered in tinsel. “Been expecting us?”